Sunny Spain
by MorganLeFay33
Summary: The countess and her lady's maid spend some time by the sea. Set some time around Series 2, I think. Rated T.
1. Chapter 1

**Sunny Spain**

_I always say I won't write more fics, but guess what? Here's another one. This whole idea came about in the most ridiculous way – basically a conversation with anglobear1337 about how Siobhan Finneran had to be painted grey when she returned from Benidorm to film Downton Abbey. Anyway, this brilliant person started coming up with tempting little images like sandcastles and old-fashioned swimsuits, and, well, I caved. No idea where it's going to go…_

_The premise is that Cora has decided to spend one summer visiting Rosamund in her newest holiday home in Spain, and of course, her lady's maid has to come along too! _

_xoxo, _

_Morgana_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"I can't wear that, Rosamund!" Cora giggles incredulously as her sister-in-law drapes the swimsuit over herself, holding up the little flowered cap to demonstrate how they go together.

"Don't be rude, Cora dear. I've put a great deal of effort into your welcoming gift. Don't you like it? I've even had a matching one made for O'Brien!"

Sarah, who has been unpacking her lady's suitcase, pauses for a moment to shoot a disapproving glance at the garment. "With all due respect, m'Lady, I would prefer not to wear that, as I've brought my own things."

"Of course, O'Brien. I would never dream of asking you to," Cora nods emphatically, beginning to blush. "Rosamund, it's very kind of you, but rather inappropriate, don't you think?"

Rosamund smirks and hangs it up on the back of the door, laughing, "Suit yourselves. I predict that you'll change your minds soon enough!" She fans herself dramatically before adding, "It's _very _hot here, you know." She looks from her sister in-law to the maid and back again, tilting her head saucily as she flounces out of the room.

* * *

The journey down the cliffs is not an easy one, but Sarah holds Cora's hand firmly the entire way, descending before her and telling her where the steadiest places are to step. The countess can feel herself perspiring once they have reached the shore, and she immediately wishes that she were wearing something less heavy.

Sarah lays the blanket down in the sand, making sure there isn't a single crease. They sit together, watching a fishing boat circling in the distance, and Sarah steals a glance at her lady, overcome by the beauty beside her. If she could paint, she would paint a portrait of her, sitting there beside the sea, her lace parasol perched so delicately over her shoulder and her gauzy white dress fluttering gracefully in the breeze. This heat is surely no place for someone like her; the sunlight reflects off her porcelain skin and bright azure eyes, and she's squinting as if it's all too much for her.

"Is there anything I can do for you, m'Lady? Are you comfortable?"

Cora watches as her maid wipes the sweat from her brow, unbuttoning the very top clasp of her blouse so that the wind can cool her.

"How very sweet you are, O'Brien. No thank you. I'm enjoying myself immensely. Would you like to share my shade? I would hate for you to get too much of the sun."

Sarah doesn't need a parasol. She doesn't even own one. Her skin will turn brown with time, and even if the rest of the world thinks it unappealing, she couldn't care less. Sarah likes the sun on her skin, likes how it feels to be pelted with something so brilliant, only to come out of it with a leathery shield that can retain the memory of the light. It's rare for her to hold onto good things.

"Yes, thank you. I would be grateful, m'Lady."

Sarah scoots in closer to her, huddling beneath the parasol and trying not to become too distracted by the scent of her lady's perfume. She would never have turned this down.

The countess rambles as she sometimes does, comparing the sight before her to the seaside summer homes she visited as a child in America, recalling fond memories of swimming and playing in the sand. It's sentimental rubbish, but Sarah hangs onto every word, wishing she had similar stories to tell.

Cora wishes she could build sandcastles still, complete with elaborate moats, flags of seaweed, and buttresses of seashells. O'Brien says she has never built one, and Cora cannot help the gasp from escaping her lips. Cora doesn't know why she is acting so silly, but there is something profoundly sad about it.

"Oh, but O'Brien, it is a part of childhood! Not even _one _in your entire life?"

"I'm afraid not, m'Lady. I didn't spend much time by the sea." Her voice is steady and unfeeling, and it only saddens Cora more.

"Heavens. If I were a young girl, I'd go and build another one right now. It was such great fun."

Her ladyship sighs and stares out at the expanse of blue-green water before her, her entire being so obviously riddled with nostalgia. Sarah doesn't give a damn about sandcastles, thinks it foolishly sentimental to attach such value to them. Sarah rolls her eyes, wondering why the things she wants are never what she really wants.

"Why don't I try my hand at it right now? Would you teach me, m'Lady?"

It is worth it to see the way she jumps excitedly in her seat and begins to list all of the instructions for proper sandcastle construction.

When O'Brien smiles slightly and begins to roll up her sleeves, Cora forgets all about sandcastles. Her eyes linger on the methodical way her lady's maid peels the light blue fabric back over each forearm. Cora likes seeing her maid in something other than black – she can see the outline of a real human body and even the expressions of a real human face. Sometimes the wind blows Sarah's curls out of place, and sometimes Sarah trips over the hem of her long skirt, and Cora can see just a bit of human chaos. She likes that too.

By the time Sarah is finished, she has almost forgotten about the countess, but not quite, for there is something peaceful about working in the sun under her lady's gentle gaze. Sarah has enjoyed herself, has become engrossed in it. She steps back and shakes her sandy hands in the air while she scrutinizes her own work.

Cora has never seen such a perfect, intricate sandcastle. She nearly cries when she remembers that the tide will soon rise to wash it away.

* * *

When they return to the house, covered in sand and sweat and salt, they each find their bathing suits hanging on their bedroom doors, and each takes a wistful moment to wonder what it would be like to swim in the sea again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Sarah stands at attention when she hears the light pitter-patter of steps outside her bedroom window. She had thought no one would be awake at this early hour, the sun still barely a sliver of light.

She moves away from her writing desk, wrapping her light shawl around herself as she opens the window and cranes her neck to look outside. There she is, tiptoeing surreptitiously across the stony garden path. Her plait is hanging loosely down her back, and she's wearing her swimsuit, sporting nothing but the tiny little smock and bloomers. Sarah cringes at the sight of her slim calves and bare feet, for she knows where she is heading and she knows the rocky path will not be easy to traverse.

"M'Lady?" she asks quietly, making her presence known.

The countess stops in her tracks and turns her shocked face toward her maid, looking adorably like a child who has just been caught stealing sweets from the kitchens.

When Cora has come back inside and is facing her lady's maid, she can feel her own heart beating quickly, and she can only look at the floor in her shame.

"Come inside," O'Brien mumbles, removing her own shawl to wrap around Cora's shoulders. She ushers her into her bedroom, and Cora obeys sheepishly.

"I'm so sorry, O'Brien. I don't know what came over me. I thought that I might be able to get away with a quick swim before anyone would even notice that I was gone…"

"M"Lady, I only worry about your safety. It's dangerous to swim alone, even to climb down that cliff, and I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

The countess shakes her head and twists her hands together. "You're right, O'Brien. You always are. I apologize for causing you worry." She sighs dejectedly. "I'm a fool for thinking that I could act young again, swimming like I used to. I do miss it so."

_No_, Sarah repeatedly tells herself. In the midst of her own mental battle between yes and no, she speaks quickly, letting her heart make the decision for her this time.

"M'Lady, would you mind very much if I had one moment to myself? I will need to change. If you could just wait outside my door, I will only be a minute."

It finally occurs to Cora that her lady's maid is still in her dressing gown, and she feels embarrassed to have interrupted her peaceful morning. She knows how much O'Brien hates to be bereft of her formal attire, and she steps backward hastily in silent apology.

"Of course, O'Brien. Yes." She wishes she had something more graceful to say in this instance, but she only feels nervous and guilty.

When O'Brien finally opens her door again, she sees Cora's jaw drop in surprise and says with a slightly smug smile, "Come on, then. We'd best get down to the water before it grows too hot."

* * *

They shuffle down the cliffs together, swimming caps hanging on their arms. Cora breathes in the salty air in excitement. She doesn't know what is more of a thrill – the prospect of swimming or the fact that O'Brien has become an accomplice in her scheme. They stand beside one another in the sand, and Cora sneaks a glance at her companion, her eyes almost involuntarily following the curve of her maid's body beneath the form-fitting garment. O'Brien adjusts Cora's swim cap and then her own, tucking long plaits beneath tight fabric until they both feel free and ready.

Her ladyship has no fear and runs toward the water in joy, sprinting into the crashing waves and diving down into the depths. Sarah follows more carefully, feeling far less agile and nimble. She doesn't know how to navigate the ocean like the countess does. Cora Crawley is a mermaid, weaving in and out of the water and floating on her back with ease. Sarah simply watches her for the longest time, treading water close by. Her lady swims nearer and nearer, eventually coming close enough to say,

"Thank you for doing this, for swimming with me. I know it is absolutely mad."

O'Brien shrugs and replies simply, "I'd do anything for you."

Cora tries to ignore the way her throat catches at the other woman's words. The only thing she can do is change the subject. "Do you wake at dawn every day?"

Sarah pauses, deciding to answer truthfully. "I usually wake before dawn."

"What do you do with your time in the mornings?"

"I write letters, read books, I suppose."

"Letters to whom? And what books?"

"Does it matter, m'Lady?" She does not ask in an accusatory manner, actually wondering whether the countess is making small talk to be polite or truly wants to know.

"It matters to me!" her lady says with her lips pursed into a small grin. "Only because I want to get to know you."

Sarah looks down at her own hands running smoothly through the sparkling water, trying to ignore the pearly glow of her lady's submerged skin beside her own. "I write to my family – to my siblings and father, to friends."

"Do you ever write any…love letters?" Cora asks it with a mischievous giggle, as if she expects an interesting answer in return. She doesn't know why she has asked, since she already knows what the answer will be. Once O'Brien shakes her head to say no, Cora continues, "I write all of my letters during the day, and most days, I would much rather sleep late than early."

"I know," O'Brien responds with a kind look in her eyes.

Cora feels silly for even bringing it up. Of course she knows. "What books do you read?"

Sarah laughs lowly and stares up at the blue sky. "Mostly crime novels, horror stories."

"Goodness, O'Brien! What a thing to say!" The countess laughs nervously, splashing little bits of seawater around with her hands. "Don't you ever feel frightened when you read them?"

Her lady's maid gazes at her mysteriously, the breeze blowing little waves around her head. "Better to feel frightened than to feel nothing."

Cora can barely believe the smile she is seeing on her maid's face, for she has never known that something so gentle and affectionate could appear there. Little does she realize that it is her own bright eyes that are lighting up Sarah's pale blue ones. They tread water in silence until Cora notices that a bit of Sarah's hair has come loose from her swimming cap.

"Oh, O'Brien, your hair…let me…" she swims forward, trying to tuck the strands of hair beneath the cap, but it proves to be a failed attempt.

Sarah giggles, a sound Cora is sure she has never heard before. "Bloody useless thing…" Sarah grabs her own swim cap and pulls it off entirely, plucking pins out of her hair until the auburn locks come tumbling down into the water, spreading out around her until the blue color of her swimsuit is entirely engulfed by a dark swirl of hair.

* * *

Once they have rung out the water from their bathing suits, they recline in the sand. Cora pulls off her own swimming cap too, and they stretch themselves out like two sea turtles, basking in the glow of the rising sun and allowing their long hair to become tangled around them. They steal tiny glances back and forth, their eyes growing heavy and their breathing beginning to align in a most tranquil way.

Sarah is awakened an hour later by the sound of a crying seagull and is alarmed to find her lady fast asleep, skin turned bright pink.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

Sarah hates sitting by the bath, can't stand watching her recline in the water. The red of her lady's skin is far too bright for Sarah not to notice that it looks like blood.

"O'Brien?" Cora sees the distant look in her maid's eyes and is concerned.

Sarah snaps her gaze back toward her lady and nods apologetically, resuming the circular motions of her cloth. She watches the cold water slide over her ladyship's body, taking special care to cool the burned areas – her arms, legs, neck, face, chest, and even a bit of her back.

Cora closes her eyes and is finally unable to feel any pain. She can feel beads of sweat forming at her temples, but she supposes it must be the heat. She simply focuses on the soothing sensation of her maid's touch, knowing that only this will help to quell the guilt that Cora knows O'Brien is feeling.

"M'Lady, I know I said it before, but again, I am sorry. If I had taken more care, you…"

"O'Brien, please do not worry anymore," Cora interrupts her. "I don't blame you in the slightest." She sighs heavily, her eyes still closed. "It was my fault for doing something so very…idiotic." She giggles at herself, continuing, "You only did what I asked, and it was kind of you to go along with it."

Sarah can't stop herself from admiring the countess' long eyelashes as she pats her closed eyes with the cool cloth. How she could have ever let this happen is beyond her. Hadn't she sworn to protect her lady? She's let her down again, and she is disgusted with herself. Lady Rosamund is not at all concerned, had simply snickered at the two of them for going back on their word and swimming. She had given them a remedy for sunburn - supposedly made for her by a Spanish woman down the road - and then she'd left to meet a friend for lunch in the nearby town. Sarah is aware of her own loose hair, dried into a tangled and sandy mess. She supposes she should feel more embarrassed to be seen in this half-dressed state, but the needs of her lady come first.

* * *

When Cora is propped up against her pillows, Sarah sits beside her on the bed and begins to administer the strange green and sticky liquid. She was suspicious of it at first, but the countess sighs contentedly whenever it touches her crimson skin, and Sarah knows it's working. She opens all of the windows to allow the afternoon breeze to flow through. Each time her lady winces in pain, she feels her heart constrict.

Cora has never seen O'Brien this way, untamed hair curling around her face, dressing gown slipping at times to show little bits of browned skin. Cora knows she has thrown it on in a hurry, has rushed to her side to attend to her burns. She selfishly hopes that her lady's maid won't change out of it just yet.

Even like this, she is beautiful, Sarah thinks to herself. She reaches out to push the slightly sun-streaked chestnut locks out of her lady's face before placing a cold compress on her forehead. Her reddened skin only makes her eyes glow more brilliantly.

O'Brien remains by her side for hours, repeatedly wiping Cora's brow with a cool cloth and re-applying the mysterious green remedy. To pass the time, the lady's maid volunteers to read to her, and Cora suggests a book of limericks that she found in her small bedroom bookcase. She can't help but grin at the hesitation in her maid's eyes, knowing all to well that a naughty joke or two would cheer them both up greatly. After O'Brien finally begins to read, they pass the day in laughter, and Cora adores the newly discovered sound of her maid's low chuckle. Even though her skin hurts to the touch and her head is spinning feverishly, she is happy. In fact, with the sunshine streaming through the open windows, with the gentle sound of fountains trickling outside, with O'Brien's deft hands smoothing cooling liquid across her skin, and with the dull ache in her stomach from laughing too hard, Cora truly feels as if she is in paradise. She cannot bring herself to tell this to O'Brien. She does not know why.

When Sarah finishes the book, the countess asks,

"What now?"

Sarah wants to bathe and make herself presentable once again, but her lady's imploring eyes bid her to do otherwise. She begins to make up her own limericks off the top of her head. Cora laughs even harder, praising her maid's quick wit. Sarah casts her eyes downward and mumbles a shy thank-you, for she has not allowed her lady to hear her talk in this way until now.

By teatime, Rosamund still has not returned. Cora yawns, feeling sleepy yet again from the hazy heat. She can feel the occasional brush of O'Brien's warm skin against her own, as her maid has moved her feet up to sit closely beside her on the small bed. She rests her head against O'Brien's arm, at first feeling the other woman's body grow tense at the contact. Within moments, she relaxes again and scoots in toward her. Cora's eyes flutter shut as her maid's calloused hands run through her hair in a steady rhythm. She falls asleep with her head resting on O'Brien's soft chest, drawing her lady's maid in by wrapping her arms around her waist. Cora is too drowsy to care about the boundaries crossed by this dangerous closeness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

Rosamund notices that Cora's skin has finally healed, eyeing the graceful swish of her pale arm as she reaches for her spoon. The countess tucks her napkin down onto her lap and fidgets good-humoredly, sending a coquettish little grin across the table before asking,

"What?"

"Nothing," her sister-in-law smirks knowingly. "Are you looking forward to our outing today? Are you sure that you still would like to go?"

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't I?" Cora asks, furrowing her brow in confusion.

Rosamund swishes her tea around in her cup, raising an eyebrow. "It's a pity to distract you from what seems to have become your usual routine as of late…a leisurely morning swim? And then perhaps a little…nap?" She emphasizes the final consonant so that it flies from her lips with a teasing little popping sound. "Or should I say…_siesta_?"

The countess blushes so furiously that Rosamund could swear her sunburn has returned.

* * *

"You can't keep doing what you're doing," Marigold says abruptly.

Sarah looks up from her breakfast and gently sets her utensils aside before leaning in to ask, "And precisely what am I doing?"

Marigold scans the empty kitchen uncomfortably before continuing. "We all know about your…behavior…with Lady Grantham."

Sarah stares her down coldly, challenging her to say more. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

Marigold does not know how long she can hold her own in this conversation, so she rises from her chair and begins to clear her place. She does not meet the other woman's eyes. "All I can say to you, Miss O'Brien, is be careful. You might spend your mornings in the sea and your afternoons in her bed, but might I remind you...you eat your breakfasts down here with us. She eats her breakfasts upstairs with Lady Rosamund. You spend your evenings sewing alone. She spends her evenings writing letters to her husband. She's about to spend her day flitting about with Lady Rosamund. You're about to spend your day doing her washing. Need I continue, or have I made myself clear?"

Sarah feels her pulse quicken, fights the urge to reach out and strangle the woman across from her, to punch those bug-like eyes and that tauntingly thin little smile. "Elaborate," she spits harshly, willing herself to stay seated.

Marigold swallows nervously, beginning to enjoy the rise in emotion she is finally getting to see from Miss O'Brien, however much she seems to be fighting it. "She's come here to rest and recover. This visit is a chance for her to escape from her real life. Only in this brief Spanish fantasy of hers are you her companion. When you return to Downton, you'll once again be nothing."

Miss Shore turns and leaves before Sarah can respond. Sarah grips the edge of the table and grimaces as she watches her walk away. She knows better than to allow this stupid woman to weasel her way into her head.

* * *

Cora fights to keep her eyes open as their guide wanders around the church, describing the various frescoes. She supposes it is her own fault for swimming this morning when she knew that there would be no chance to nap. She has fallen into a habit, and she does not know how exactly it happened. When the sun reaches its peak each day and there is nothing left to do, Sarah comes to her room in silence. There is never a need to speak. She simply crawls onto the bed and they fall asleep together for hours on end. It is peaceful and innocent, but Cora notices that things change each time between them, and she feels slightly guilty for the excitement that it sparks within her. She often opens her eyes in the middle of it to find herself entwined with her lady's maid in the strangest ways – gripping her hips, holding her hands, burying her nose in her neck. Yesterday she awoke to find Sarah's lips pressed against her forehead and one of her maid's hands slipped under her nightdress and resting on the small of her back. Cora cannot remember the last time someone held her like Sarah does, and the thought of it takes her far away from this display of paintings, no matter how beautiful they may be.

"I'm glad that you paid such close attention to that rousing lecture."

Cora is startled and jumps slightly to see that she and Rosamund are alone again, the redhead crossing her arms and smiling accusatorily.

"Rosamund, I am sorry. I don't know _where_ my mind has been today…"

"Well that's peculiar, because I do." She casually points behind her and remarks, "I would have thought that you would at least find _that _one interesting. After all, the figure does seem to resemble the object of your affections."

Cora turns to the fresco behind Rosamund, scanning the wall in puzzlement. "Robert? I don't see anything."

Rosamund laughs lightly and points to a woman depicted in the corner, with long brown curls and a secretive smile. "Who said anything about Robert, my dear?"

* * *

She returns like a dancing breeze, but it is too late for that. The sun has already set and Sarah has stayed awake all day in the miserable heat, awaiting her lady's return. She feels tired, and something inexplicably bitter has been brewing within her all day. As Sarah dresses her for dinner, Cora rambles on excitedly about the adventures she has had.

Cora is perplexed by her maid's silence relative to her own chattering.

"Will that be all, m'Lady?" O'Brien asks deferentially, severely pushing in one last hairpin before stepping backwards.

"Yes. Thank you, O'Brien."

Throughout dinner, Cora cannot shake the feeling that something is wrong.

Sarah does not join Marigold for dinner, instead sits on her bed, holding her head in her shaking hands and trying to breathe deep breaths. She cannot articulate what has changed in her today. She wants to say something, anything, to the countess - something that will make her cry or scream or shout – but she does not know what she can say. Every time those blue eyes meet her own, she always forgets her train of thought.

Before she can leave to undress the countess for the night, she hears a light knock on her door. Cora has already partially undressed herself, shuffling around in slippers and allowing her messy plait to hang over her shoulders. She has managed to light a lamp, and her lovely face is bathed by its flickering glow.

"Shhh!" she says, a playful gleam in her eye. "Sarah, have I done something to upset you today?"

Cora is not surprised by the alarmed expression on the other woman's face.

"No, m'Lady, I…"

She waits for her maid to continue, but she seems to be choked up and unable to speak. "I thought perhaps we could take a brief walk tonight? Just you and I? To talk? Heaven knows it's certainly warm enough. I promise that I'm not one bit afraid of the darkness. I know I'll be safe if you are with me. What do you say?"

Sarah cannot tell whether it's the unbearable heat of the night or the look in her lady's eyes, but she melts, and she finds herself en route to the shoreline, once again holding her hand as they scramble over craggy rocks.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

They leave their shoes and stockings in the sand in front of the house, holding up their skirts while they walk along the dark shoreline. The night is comfortingly quiet, tiny stars glowing brightly above them and the sound of waves lapping at their feet.

Cora is the first to break the silence. She glances over at her lady's maid, pleased to see her stern hair and blouse becoming ruffled by the gentle wind. There is sadness in her large eyes, and Cora won't have any of it.

"Sarah, won't you tell me what I have done to upset you? You seem out of sorts."

The other woman takes a moment to think, looking down at her steps and focusing intently on keeping her clothing dry. She is still uncomfortable with her ladyship's newest habit of using her Christian name.

"M'Lady," she replies softly, "I don't think we should be spending any more time together than we have already. I hope to always remain professional, but lately, I'm afraid I've been a disappointment to myself in that regard, and I fear to you as well…"

"What on earth are you talking about?" the countess asks, confused.

Sarah has been so distracted that she didn't realize her lady was holding the lamp this entire time. She does not seem tired in the least, but Sarah nonetheless worries that its heaviness has been a burden.

"M'Lady, would you like me to carry that for - "

"No!" she interrupts in exasperation. "I am perfectly fine as I am." She stops and gazes at her maid, lips pursed and eyes wide in question. "What gave you the idea that you've been any kind of disappointment?"

"M'Lady," Sarah stutters nervously, "People have started to say things about us, and I refuse to allow any sort of negative rumors to circulate about you, seeing as it's my job to protect you and care for you…"

"Cora!" she cries sternly. "You must call me Cora." Her dark hair is beginning to blow wildly around her face. With the sea behind her and the lamp lighting the water around her heels, she looks like a siren, once again drawing Sarah in until she is helpless.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Sarah replies, feeling her own voice beginning to shake. "I can't call you that, and I can't look at you like this…" She clumsily steps backward as Cora reaches out to hold her hand. Sarah pulls it away quickly. "And I can't let you touch me like that…I can't."

"What are you so afraid of, Sarah? What are they saying about us?" The countess feels concerned and angry at the same time, unable to understand why one of her oldest friends, her companion, is now withdrawing so violently, like a hermit crab into its shell.

"Must I say it, m'Lady?" she asks in a small, pained voice. "You _must_ know the things people say."

Cora knows perfectly well what they are probably saying, and she feels ill at the thought that it seems to disgust Sarah so. Perhaps she had been wrong in thinking or hoping that her lady's maid could ever return her feelings.

"Are they saying that we're lovers?" Cora asks the question directly, standing perfectly still.

She observes the color rise in Sarah's cheeks. Her maid's eyes flicker nervously to the side as she nods wordlessly.

"And would it be so wrong if we were?"

Sarah feels her lungs constrict at her words.

"I don't know how to do this, Sarah," she continues in a low, earnest voice. "I had hoped that you might understand it more than I do, that you could teach me."

In that moment, from the look in her maid's eyes, Cora can tell that she has not been mistaken. She quickly places the lantern on the ground, just out of reach from the water, and claps her hands together hastily to brush off the sand. When she's once again standing in front of Sarah, she shuffles toward her until she can hear each one of her ragged breaths. She does not know where the courage comes from, but it wills her to lift Sarah's chin toward her own face. Her maid's eyes are squeezed shut and her mouth is trembling, gasping as if she is about to cry. At first contact, Sarah's lips are closed tightly against her own until broken open again by tiny dry sobs. Cora pulls her in even closer this time, pressing their lips together firmly, wrapping her arms around the other woman and refusing to let go until they both relax into the kiss and the resistance is slowly replaced by the warmth of desire.

When they break apart breathlessly, Sarah fiddles with Cora's soft hair, twirling bits of it around her finger and biting her lip, a troubled look in her eyes.

"We shouldn't, Cora."

"We should."

"It's against God and nature, and…"

Cora suddenly kisses her again, gripping the other woman's neck and hips possessively until she gives in, melting into her arms.

"I don't believe for a second that you mean that." Cora whispers, her face inches away from Sarah's.

"I mean it for _you_. You're different from me. You're better than me." She speaks quickly, desperately.

Cora's heart breaks at her companion's words. She holds her face in her hands, pushing stray curls away from her forehead as she stares purposefully into her eyes. "You mustn't say such things."

"M'Lady,"

"Cora."

"Cora, people will talk, no matter how much of a secret this is. You don't deserve that. I know what it feels like…"

"And you think I don't know? My darling, I have been the object of ridicule from the moment I set foot on English soil, and you of all people should know that." She laughs, throwing her head back and rolling her eyes. "Let them talk. We'll deal with it when the time comes." The countess grasps both of Sarah's small hands, raising them and intertwining them with her own. "For now, just kiss me, won't you?"

Sarah is more than happy to acquiesce, leaning in to capture her lady's soft lips yet again. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembers that their long skirts have fallen around them into the salty water and are swishing about their ankles. They, among other things, may be irreparably ruined, but there will be time to worry about it later.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

"Whoa!" Cora grabs onto her large straw hat before it can fly off of her head, giggling furiously as she feels arms enclosing around her from behind. She nearly trips and falls into the water, but Sarah steadies her, and a chill runs up her spine at the sensation of her maid nuzzling her neck.

The sun has barely risen, and they have forgotten their swimsuits today. Sarah cannot sit idly by as her lady flutters about on the shore looking so very adorable, her white bloomers hiked up as high as possible and her lithe, pale limbs flailing about so teasingly. Sarah absolutely had to creep up on her, to lock her in a strong embrace. The countess is as carefree and lovely as the white sails on a ship, and Sarah is still not convinced that she won't sail away from her. She holds her as often as she can, wants to know for certain that in this moment, Cora Crawley is hers.

When they return to the sand-covered blanket, they fall down together messily, and Sarah immediately swings herself above her lover. They are both shaking with laughter and squirming as Sarah drops silly little kisses all across her lady's face. Surprisingly little has changed. Their usual swims and naps are punctuated by kisses and touches, some light and frisky, others that leave them both blushing and gasping for air.

Sarah reaches out to pick up Cora's hat from where it has fallen between them, and she lays it over her lady's face, causing her to huff and giggle in mock protest. Cora sits up quickly, carefully repositioning it on her head. She swings her legs over her maid's lap and says with a sigh,

"I suppose we should enjoy this while we can - being out in the open. I shudder to think of our future days at Downton, of having to limit our affections to quiet meetings behind locked doors."

"One month, love," Sarah replies more seriously, sitting up as well. "We have one more month to enjoy this. Although, you know, locked doors can be a rush as well…" She suddenly reaches out to tickle Cora, whom she has recently discovered is extremely ticklish, and their careful plans dissipate into the air like the salty spray from the waves.

* * *

Marigold pats her napkin on her chin in a most ladylike manner before unleashing her threat.

"Miss O'Brien, I didn't think it would have to come to this, but I must say that it's terribly upsetting to see her Ladyship being so very unfaithful to her husband. I would hate for him to have to learn this news from his sister."

Sarah groans and nonchalantly takes a sip of her tea before replying, "And why must he have to?"

The other woman rises abruptly from her chair and hisses, "You are selfish. She is not yours. You will bring ruin upon their family…all for the sake of your own repulsive…desires."

"Is that so?" Sarah asks, mildly amused by Marigold's sudden temper tantrum. She feels oddly light-headed, almost saddened to have forgotten the part of herself that would have cared in the past. Before she arrived in Spain, Sarah O'Brien would have scared her to death already, would have taken revenge before a wrong could even be committed. The new Sarah O'Brien is dangerously immune to nonsense.

Fuming, she continues, "The two of you engage in behavior that is entirely - "

"Innocent," Sarah interrupts her. "At least for now," she adds with a smirk. They both know she is not lying.

"If this continues, I _will _tell Lady Rosamund, and –"

"What, tell her something she already knows?" Sarah also stands to lean over the table, raising an eyebrow at the other lady's maid, who now appears to be shocked at her response. "Your threat is hollow, Miss Shore," she continues in a low and steady tone, "Lady Rosamund will keep this secret, because she cares for Cora and would happily deny any slander from the likes of you."

"You're bluffing." Marigold's eyes are wide as she whispers it, her entire form stiff from the unpleasant surprise. Sarah can almost smell her fear, and she feels an old rush of excitement once again. How she loves a good squabble from time to time.

"I am not." She stares her down defiantly. "Go on, then. Give it a try."

They remain there for several seconds, unmoving, glaring at one another.

"You don't know her at all, not like I do," Marigold sputters indignantly. "She tells me _everything_."

"Does she?" Sarah asks with a sarcastic laugh. "Then I suppose you must know all about Vera? Her previous lady's maid? The one whose behavior and…how did you put it? Yes, _desires_ were far more _repulsive _than my own."

Sarah smiles wickedly at the sight of Marigold's confused and hurt face. She has won. Sarah moves to leave the kitchen, stopping beside the other woman to murmur,

"I don't know why you're doing this. It'd be in your best interest to keep your nose out. Stopping us won't propel you forward. If Lady Rosamund is unreachable to you, I can't help that. I only suggest, from experience, that you stop feeling sorry for yourself before you do something cruel and stupid that you'll regret."

With that, she leaves her, striding confidently down the hallway. When she returns to her room to retrieve her button box, Sarah stretches out her arms like a cat, reclining lazily and feeling utterly victorious.

* * *

The first night when Cora tiptoes into Sarah's bedroom surprises them both. Afterwards, they lay together on Sarah's unmade bed, the unneeded sheets tossed onto the floor in the sweltering heat. Cora weeps quietly into Sarah's bare shoulder for many minutes, refusing to let go of her. When she finally can speak again, she whispers meekly into her ear,

"I never knew it was supposed to feel that way."

"Better not to know it, I think," Sarah says softly, kissing her tousled hair.

Cora draws away from her for a moment to look into her eyes, finally seeing the scars left there by years of loneliness. She understands now. She cradles Sarah in her arms once again, mumbling, "Of course. Sarah, my Sarah…"


	7. Chapter 7

_So oops. This is really fluffy...like really fluffy fluff. If you can't stand the fluff, get out of the basket of kittens. _

_xoxo,_

_Morgana_

**Chapter 7**

* * *

With each passing day, their swims grow shorter and their following baths grow longer. Sarah likes the bubbles and the flowery scent of the soap. She never was able to relax in this way before, to reach out and touch Cora whenever she wants, to unabashedly admire her beauty. Cora likes to wash Sarah's long hair, to surprise her with kisses whenever she wants, to take care of someone else for a change.

Sarah always insists that she leave the bath before the countess so that she can give her lady a soft towel and hold her hand while she climbs over the porcelain barrier. Most days, Cora watches Sarah comb her wet hair in front of the mirror. Today, Cora wants to try combing Sarah's hair herself. She runs her fingers through it gently but gasps when the comb gets caught in one tangle and jerks her lover's head back.

"Ow!"

"Sorry, sorry! Oh, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" she stumbles nervously.

Sarah lets out a throaty laugh and mumbles, "It's all right. You have to start from the bottom."

"Of course! I should have known that," Cora says, looking at her in the mirror with a modest smile.

"It's no bother," Sarah reassures her earnestly, reaching behind her shoulder to pat her lady's hand. "When we return to Downton, it'll only be me doing the combing again."

Cora feels a strange, saddening jolt within herself at Sarah's words, but she simply smiles more widely to try to erase it, reminding herself that there will always be things she cannot change.

* * *

"You called for me?"

Rosamund is shuffling too excitedly through her armoire to notice Cora's entrance, throwing countless hats around the room until she cries, "Aha!" in satisfaction.

"Rosamund?"

"What do you think?" She holds out a most flamboyant white sunhat, complete with all varieties of seashells and a pale yellow ribbon. The brim is so wide that Cora covers her mouth in laughter as her sister-in-law settles it on her head.

"What is the occasion?"

"Well," Rosamund replies in an enthusiastic whisper, "I'm going sailing today!"

"With whom?" Cora asks incredulously. "_Sailing_? Aren't you afraid of getting seasick?"

Rosamund cackles loudly. "Cora, my dear, the only one in this family who goes green in the face at sea is _you_."

"I suppose you're right," she responds bashfully. "You still haven't answered my question."

The redhead rushes around her room, dabbing perfume on her wrists and inspecting her makeup. Cora has noticed that she acts differently in Spain, that she always waits for her lady's maid to leave before painting her face and pulling down her dress to expose more of her chest.

"I've met a young Spanish man who offered to take me today. He's _very _good at sailing apparently, and – "

"Oh Rosamund," Cora rolls her eyes and giggles. "How young exactly?" She crosses her arms in playful accusation.

Rosamund sniffs loudly, pretending to calculate carefully. "Young enough that I can imagine your three daughters becoming quite taken with him!" She winks and continues to shuffle around, sending the clear signal that she neither expects nor will accept any kind of judgment from the countess.

"Why did you call for me?"

"Right!" Once Rosamund has gathered all her things, she pulls her sister-in-law into the chair across from her and changes her tone of voice. She takes Cora's hand in her own and says slowly, "Do you love her?"

"Who?" Cora tries to seem oblivious but fails to do so.

"You are ridiculous. Do you think I'm deaf and blind?" she asks with a smirk.

Cora blushes and replies honestly. "I do love her." She looks down at her shoes, hoping that her sister-in-law's response will not be a harsh one.

"Have you told her yet? Have you said the exact words, 'I love you'?"

"No," she shakes her head insistently, unsure of where Rosamund is going with this.

"Look at me, Cora."

The countess raises her eyes, surprised to see an air of seriousness on Rosamund's face.

She squeezes Cora's hand and whispers, "Then you must tell her."

The countess does not speak, simply gazes at her sister-in-law in confusion.

Rosamund sighs heavily, the small wrinkles in the corners of her eyes suddenly making themselves known. She glances out the window for a moment. The breeze picks up one of her tiny red curls and bounces it around in stark contrast to her still expression. She focuses back on Cora and continues,

"You must trust me. She may not be the kind to read you Shakespeare sonnets and bring you baskets of flowers. She may be the kind who snickers at your favorite novels, makes fun of the way you dance, invents affectionately cruel nicknames for you, whispers wicked little things in your ear at the _worst _possible times…" She laughs softly and introspectively, and Cora is taken aback by the sudden sadness in her eyes. "You might feel soppy and maudlin admitting it, but you must do it so she knows it."

"Rosamund…" Cora replies sympathetically, unsure of what to say.

"I once had the opportunity to say it. I didn't, and now I'll never get to."

Before Cora can reply, the redhead has already bounced back up onto her toes and is scurrying out the door, a cheerful smile once again plastered across her face.

"I should be back on land by supper!" She says it with just a bit too much enthusiasm, and she dashes off, leaving Cora in utter bewilderment.

* * *

Cora finds her smoking in the inner courtyard, where she goes every day after their morning swim. She is leaning back in the sunlight, listening to the bubbling fountain. Her eyes are closed, the bright rays of the sun bringing out the auburn in her messy bun.

Sarah doesn't notice that Cora is sat beside her until she opens her eyes. When she does see her, she simply grins and passes the cigarette to her, exhaling slowly and leisurely. Cora takes a long puff of it before giving it back to her. She has started smoking a bit now herself, but only when there is no one here to catch them.

Cora shuffles toward her lady's maid timidly, leaning her head on her shoulder. She feels Sarah's arm curl around her waist to pull her in closer.

"I love you."

She says it quietly, lightly, daintily, and Sarah can barely tell whether it's real or simply in her imagination. Sarah says it back to her, trying to make her words sound just as subtle and graceful, but the waver in her voice gives her away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

* * *

_Four months later_

* * *

Sarah finds them hidden in the back of Cora's wardrobe and smiles to herself. For such a clever woman, did the countess really think she could keep them concealed from her lady's maid?

Sarah pauses to look out the window of the dark room, wishing the sun didn't have to begin setting in the afternoon during the winter. The trees have no leaves left on them and the winter chill has arrived, but there has been no snow. The entire house waits in anticipation for Christmas to arrive, but without snow, the world outside is nothing but a desolate, cold moor. Sarah tugs at her sleeve and pulls it back just enough from her wrist to see her pale skin flashing back at her, antagonizing her. She readjusts it and pats her hair down, pinning it tightly in place as she forces herself to stand up a little straighter.

She thinks about one day they had spent by the sea – an ordinary day of no specific significance, but she cannot forget it. If she closes her eyes, Sarah can almost feel the sun's rays on her face once more, her skin the warmest golden hue it has ever been, her sun-reddened hair falling around her, her thin blouse unbuttoned, her skirt and corset thrown into the sand. There had been no one there to see her – only Cora in a similar state of undress. In that moment, sprawled out in the sunshine, fingertips barely brushing her lady's beside her, Sarah felt beautiful for the first time in her life.

It is harder to be Sarah here, she thinks ruefully, folding the material over her arms. Here at Downton Abbey, she is O'Brien. She is the O'Brien who disappears to smoke with Thomas, the O'Brien who makes her presence known only through silent shared meals with the staff, the O'Brien who comes and goes to and from her ladyship's quarters with washing and hairbrushes and mended clothing. But sometimes late at night or on lazy afternoons, she comes to Cora as Sarah.

Cora deserves more than just sometimes.

She glances at the clock and makes a decision. She will only have twenty minutes.

* * *

Cora's heart no longer flutters when she walks up the stairs to greet O'Brien for her bath. It is not waning affections, but rather a comfortable familiarity that relaxes her. To have Sarah's hands on her, whether as a maid or a lover, releases all doubt and stress from her mind. Life is heavier here, and she needs her. Not until recently have her silver hairpieces felt so dense, have her gowns felt so tight and bristly, have her shoes felt so very prickly.

When she enters, she is not surprised to see Sarah standing beside the door in a dressing gown. Cora immediately runs to her and kisses her, trying to guide them toward the bed and slip the silky fabric off of her maid's shoulders.

Sarah is very nearly thwarted in her plan, distracted by ruby red lips and sparkling eyes, by the weakness she feels in her legs when the countess whispers sensual things in her ear with that velvety voice of hers. She manages to push Cora off of her, once again able to think without her warm mouth nipping at the hollow of her throat. By now, Cora knows all too well that it is precisely the way to make her lover surrender instantaneously. Not today.

Cora feels the flutter again when Sarah breaks away and drops a light kiss on her hand. It has been quite a while since the unknown had last entered their lovemaking. Her maid seems oddly excited, her roguish eyes alight with something unquestionably naughty. Suddenly, the countess is turned around and feels Sarah's calloused hands blindfolding her as she is pushed forward.

Cora giggles in surprise.

"What in the name of…"

"Sssh." Sarah silences her and ushers her into the bathroom, placing a little kiss on the back of her neck. She removes her hands, whispering, "Count to fifteen and then open them." Cora is happy to comply.

She bursts into a delighted fit of laughter when she sees Sarah leaning on the edge of the full bathtub in her bathing suit, flowery swim cap fastened onto her head. The room is impossibly warm, with countless scented candles arranged all around them. It is warm enough in here that it almost feels like summer.

"You little sneak!" Cora accuses her in jest. "You found it!"

"I didn't just find _mine_, you know." Sarah grins like a soppy adolescent lad who has just caught a glimpse of his first love. She holds up a second swimsuit, hoping her lady will take the hint. She does.

Sarah watches, mesmerized, as Cora holds her gaze and undresses herself. She unbuttons and unties until each of her fine garments falls to the floor one by one. At the sight of Cora's lovely, fair body, Sarah nearly jumps up to touch her, but she resists. Best not to spoil the fun. She watches appreciatively as her lady shakes out her long chestnut locks with a suggestive little smirk and pulls the bathing suit on.

Sarah helps her into the bath, and there they sit, pretending to tread water with their arms and watching one another in the heat of the orange candlelight. Cora breaks her gaze to take her hand out of the water and lick her own palm.

"Darling, did you…is there _salt _in the bathwater?"

Her lady's maid leans back and pulls her swimming cap off, chuckling joyfully. "It was for the ambiance."

Cora inches forward, as if chasing her. When she catches her, she threads her fingers through Sarah's disheveled hair, meeting her desire-filled eyes for a long moment. She kisses her maid softly before murmuring, "Take me back to sunny Spain, Sarah."

"Gladly."

* * *

_That's it! That's all. Hope it was satisfactory. I think I need to head to a beach somewhere now..._

_xoxo,_

_Morgana_


End file.
